


the hedgehog's dilemma

by onymouse



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Angst and Humor, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2013-06-27
Packaged: 2017-12-16 07:21:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/859431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onymouse/pseuds/onymouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Kasamatsu is possibly the least suave person on the face of the planet, and Kise's just a dick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the hedgehog's dilemma

PARTLY DUE TO a premonition that his day is going to suck, and partly because he was up too late using Firefox’s incognito mode for its intended function, Kasamatsu doesn’t wake up until nearly noon, which is when this sparkly yellow bird that’s been tormenting him for weeks bursts into song and starts strutting up and down his windowsill like it’s the goddamn Kise Ryouta of the avian world instead of just an absolute _dick_.

The first thought that passes through Kasamatsu’s head is twofold: 1) he is going to turn the bird’s potential offspring into an omelet and eat it while said bird watches; 2) he has been spending way too much time around Akashi Seijuurou. This is actually kind of uncharitable since Akashi’s been downright mellow for years, ever since Kuroko kicked the Generation of Miracles’ asses and delivered unto them a lesson of love and friendship in the only inter-high basketball tournament ever to follow the plot of a harem anime. But Kasamatsu’s not inclined to be charitable with Kise-bird singing what are probably odes to its own beauty on the windowsill, so he calls upon the Akashi of old to guide his hand and scrabbles blindly for the nearest projectile weapon he can find.

"Oh, good," Takao says from the doorway, “you’re awake."

Kasamatsu pries open one eyelid. This turns out to be a huge mistake, because it means that the first thing he sees is Takao in a frilly pink apron with matching barrettes, which is so adorable that it chases the premonition about this being the worst day ever out of his mind. He hums a greeting and Takao hops back into bed, snuggling up against his side with a satisfied sigh.

"Hi," Takao says. “I made breakfast, and also —"

There’s a light dusting of flour in his hair, but maybe it’s really cocaine because Kasamatsu’s starting to feel high already, drifting away on the glow of Takao’s smile and the caress of his voice. “Hi," he interrupts, and tries to kiss Takao on the cheek but miscalculates and gets the tip of his chin instead. “I like the apron."

"Oh, this," Takao says, smoothing down the fabric in a way that does terrible things to Kasamatsu’s grasp on proper behavior, in that he was brought up to be a good boy who brushed his teeth first thing in the morning before eating and certainly before fucking his live-in boyfriend into oblivion. “I thought about coming in with nothing underneath, but I figured that might give you an aneurysm. Anyway, this way we can make a deal."

"What deal?" Kasamatsu asks, running his fingers idly along Takao’s back. Takao grins, and suddenly he’s on top of Kasamatsu, straddling his hips with a glint in his eyes that means nothing good. Or lots of good, it’s kind of subjective. Kasamatsu jerks his mind away from this line of thought before he starts listing moral relativism as one of his kinks and adds, “I’m not going on another double date with Akashi and Midorima, if that’s what you want."

"Nothing like that," Takao says breezily. “I just wondered — do you still have those compression socks?"

Kasamatsu blinks. “Yeah, why — _oh_ ," he says, and feels his face go scarlet. Takao starts cackling like the bastard he is, and when a quick mental search of Moriyama’s romantic advice turns up zero results for _help, my partner doesn’t respect the sanctity of my socks_ , Kasamatsu’s forced to flip him onto his back and kiss him breathless just to make him shut up. Then he does it again, because Takao’s still laughing in a way that implies that he’s making a huge mistake, but Kasamatsu can’t bring himself to care with what the laughter does to Takao’s eyes.

Fifteen minutes later they are fucking to the orchestral accompaniment of Kise-bird and Takao himself, who is letting out the loudest porn star noises Kasamatsu has ever heard. “Um," Kasamatsu says, pausing as Takao throws his head back and moans like someone’s just stabbed him in the kidney, “what are you doing?"

Takao gives him a look of wide-eyed innocence. “I’m enjoying myself," he says, glee bubbling at the back of his voice, and lets out another throaty growl for good measure. “Are you questioning the sincerity of my reactions? Come on, Yu-chan, it’s time to accept that you are a _love god_."

Which is about as believable as Midorima claiming to be a social butterfly, but once Kasamatsu gets used to the new soundtrack, it’s not really that bad. He even starts to find it kind of hot partway through, and when Takao arches against the blanket and cries out his name in a choked scream, Kasamatsu almost concusses himself against the headboard in a sudden fit of tunnel vision. For the next few minutes Takao’s face is still the only thing he can see — but it’s all he wants to see, really, glowing at him like he’s some sort of goddamn miracle, even with his face flushed and his hair sleep-mussed so he probably resembles nothing so much as a drunken hedgehog.

So he’s not complaining, not at all, at least not until the two of them wobble downstairs on boneless legs and find Akashi and Midorima seated at the kitchen table, clutching cups of tea in white-knuckled hands. Akashi has the flawless half-smile of a man who’s been trained never to reveal his emotions even in the face of his friends’ overenthusiastic sexual congress, but his left eye is flickering gold, like he’s trying desperately to escape and let his alternate personality deal with the situation. Midorima just looks haunted and vaguely betrayed by Oha-Asa. He’s also wearing a pancake as a hat, because Takao’s cooking habits haven’t changed much in the past few years.

"Oh right," Takao says happily, as Kasamatsu blushes and Midorima dies inside and Akashi murmurs something about their good health in a tone that implies that he really misses the fine old days of high school, when he could stab people and have everyone brush it off as another of his charming eccentricities, “I forgot to mention. The in-laws are here!"

—

IT ALL STARTED with Takao treating him to okonomiyaki, ostensibly to make up for the pancake that Midorima took home on his head but really so they could exchange stories about the collective stupid that was the Generation of Miracles. Somehow that escalated into daily texts about Kise and Midorima, and then just daily texts with lunch dates and long walks on the beach, until one night Kasamatsu finally realized that the thing he wanted most in the world was to lean across the table and kiss Takao over and over again until they got thrown out of the restaurant for public indecency.

He didn’t do this. Instead, he dragged Moriyama out to a bar at one in the morning and had a crisis, helped along by the inexorable multiplying of empty beer bottles in front of them. Moriyama, who had gained near-infinite reserves of patience from having to put up with Izuki’s puns every day, patted him on the back and tried to offer him useful advice with minimal mocking.

"If you’re worried about ruining your friendship," he said, shortly after Kasamatsu had drawn a rather amorphous version of Takao in the condensation on his bottle and tried to convince the other patrons of its peerless beauty, “why not confess with a joke? Something lighthearted, you know, so you can laugh it off if it doesn’t work. Just try to drop it into casual conversation."

Kasamatsu turned to look at him. “You are so wise," he said soulfully, and rested his head against the counter because it was starting to feel heavy. “Can I ask you something important?"

"Sure."

"Last night I dreamt that Takao was a hawk and he carried me up to the carnal love palace of his nest and proceeded to have his wicked way with me," Kasamatsu said. “What do you think that means?"

A look of unspeakable horror flitted across Moriyama’s face. “I’m pretty sure it means we should _never talk again_."

"Don’t hate because hawks have larger nests than eagles," Kasamatsu told him sternly. Then he spent the next few minutes congratulating himself on how clever and cryptic that comment had been, until Moriyama rolled his eyes and manhandled him into a taxi.

"You know," he added, as Kasamatsu wobbled in the backseat and tried to remember all the steps involved in sitting upright, “this is much better than Kise."

"I know that," Kasamatsu said, closing his eyes and promptly falling over. “I’m not stupid."

"…right," Moriyama said, and went away muttering about carnal love nests. Poor guy just couldn’t handle his alcohol.

Kasamatsu woke up the next morning with a raging headache and the faint recollection that he had possibly traumatized Moriyama for life. He drifted through the rest of the day in a woozy haze, at least until Takao dragged him off to try a new café in Akiba, at which point his face decided that redness was directly correlated with attractiveness and the best way to win Takao over was by doing an excellent impression of a stop sign. The message his face was trying to convey was probably something like _stop not molesting me_ , but what actually came across must have been _I am in severe need of medical assistance_ , because Takao paused in the middle of an anecdote about Midorima’s lucky penguin to ask if he was okay.

"Yeah," Kasamatsu said, and tried to angle his face away from the light. “I mean — you laugh at Midorima a lot, huh."

"Well, yes," Takao said. He was speaking very carefully, with the practiced tact of someone who had spent the majority of his formative years dealing with crazy people. “I guess it’s a sign of affection. Kind of like how you used to kick Kise in the head all the time."

"Right, okay," Kasamatsu said. Then he took a deep breath, tried to summon up all the sage advice Moriyama had given him at the bar, and squeaked, “I’d like to kick _you_ in the head sometime."

Which was to say, _fuck_ Moriyama, and fuck Takao too, because he spent the next few minutes howling with unadulterated glee until the café had security escort them off the premises. Kasamatsu watched glumly as Takao had some sort of mirth-induced seizure on the pavement outside, both arms clutching his stomach and tears glistening at the corners of his scrunched-up eyes. Finally, when it had become clear that Takao wasn’t going to stop laughing for a good two or three days, Kasamatsu cleared his throat and stammered, “I — I’m just going to go," feeling rather that the “commit seppuku" at the end of the statement was implied.

"No," Takao gasped, maneuvering himself into a standing position, “don’t —"

So that was how their first kiss happened, with Takao’s shoulders shaking and his mouth curling into a smile against Kasamatsu’s. Maybe it wasn’t the earth-shattering pinnacle of romance he’d pictured, but on the other hand it was a lot less painful than making out with hawk-Takao, so on the whole he considered himself quite satisfied, especially once Takao stopped laughing and drew him closer. There was sunlight in Takao’s hair and universes in his eyes and small children staring out of the café windows, and when Takao pulled away with a wistful sigh Kasamatsu made a mental note to buy Moriyama something really excellent for Christmas, like an NBA team or one of those singing Hallmark cards.

Four years down the line, they’ve figured out how to fill the gaps in each other’s lives and there is a ring in Kasamatsu’s online shopping cart and he’s actually reconciled himself to the fact that Takao has a deep unbreakable bond with the terror that is Akashi Seijuurou, forged from a mutual desire to use “shogi" as a clever euphemism around Midorima until he implodes. Everything is perfect and nothing hurts, which is why Kasamatsu feels his heart sink about three inches in his chest when Akashi leans across the table with glittering eyes and says, “There’s something wrong with Ryouta."


End file.
